


Day One: Holding Hands.

by Kirigami



Category: Homestuck
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, ? - Freeform, Fluff, Fourth of July, Holding Hands, M/M, really gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 20:50:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4114519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirigami/pseuds/Kirigami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>eyo! im going to be trying to complete a 30 day OTP challenge before i pick up some of my other fanfictions. ill be posting them here, i hope you enjoy!]]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day One: Holding Hands.

Day One: Holding hands.

It starts in the summertime, when your eyes are fixed on the designs exploding onto the dark Washington sky and a cool breeze slides across sections of exposed skin. It’s the Fourth of July, a celebration of the battles passed and a tribute to America, that sort of bullshit. Right now, all you can “o’, say can you see” is the colorful patterns that light up the world with eruptions of sound that seem to shake the earth beneath your calloused palms as you sit on the cool pavement of the driveway, and the still silhouette of your best friend in your peripheral. Of course, you’re no stranger to fireworks, but they were much less elaborate when you had the risk of burning the entirety of Texas down in the dryness and heat of the early July atmosphere. Not that it wasn’t a spectacular view from the top of your apartment building, but this was much more special, much more memorable. This could be due (and is most likely attributed) to your current position, sitting cross-legged. On John’s driveway. By an amazing clarity of schedules and a grumpy brother that seemed to want you away from home more and more frequently, you were allowed to be shipped off to your best friend’s house for a month out of the summer. You didn’t object.

You honestly can’t think of anything you’d wanted more.

That had led up to this moment; loud hollers in the distance of too-excited adults as color painted the sky and earth-shaking booms seemed to rattle the ground. John sat next to you, each burst of light that shone above the both of you reflecting in the shimmer of his glasses, his messy dark hair being swept slightly this way and that by the light breeze. His deep turquoise eyes were lit with childish amazement and his rosy lips were parted slightly and absently as he watched the spectacle that exploded around him, and the way that red, white, blue splashed over his delicate features as fireworks burst in the sky could be described as nothing less than beautiful. 

Your gaze turned down to the ground beneath you so that he wouldn’t catch you staring. A lonely ant made its way through the maze of small pieces of gravel as it traveled over the concrete, carrying a small crumb of a potato chip in its strong mandibles. You crush it with your thumb. What can you say? The little guy was getting a little too close to the Egbert ass. John should be thanking you. 

After moving your hand, though, you pause before moving it back to its place. John’s hand was also resting on the driveway, and one of his fingers was idly tapping away to a tune that nobody but he could hear. You wondered what his fingers would feel like linked with your own, if they would be soft and smooth, or calloused, like your own, from years of playing piano. You itched to take his hand.

The thought of this had crossed your mind more than once. It was long past time that you had admitted that you had developed feelings for the brunette, but you were way less experienced than you were comfortable with. You were close enough to John to be able to gauge his reaction to most situations, but this was foreign ground, and you had the summer ahead of you yet. Basically, you weren’t about to fuck this up and muddle your relationship because of stupid, pesky feelings. 

But despite your inner musings, you couldn’t help but inch your hand a bit closer to John’s. Holding his hand couldn’t hurt, right? It was a breath-taking moment, the sky lit with hundreds of mini explosions as you sat together. Sharing this was a pleasure, sharing it and sharing contact would be more so. It could easily be brushed off as a mistake if something went wrong, anyways. 

Thinking critically about it, there were probably about four outcomes he might reply with that you can imagine off of the top of your head. It’s likely that he might try to laugh it off and make a joke (to which you would make some ironic comment), he could move his hand away as if nothing happened, he could get awkward as fuck about it and make the rest of the night weird, or he could let it be, holding your hand back if you were lucky. 

The unnecessary contemplation was prolonging this, far longer than it needed. You had this, Dave. You were probably the coolest fucking dude in this state, you didn’t need to be freaking out over holding hands with your best friend of many, many years.

So, without spending another agonizing thought on the subject, you look forward and slide your had over John’s. His skin is soft, and your clammy fingers curl slightly under his palm, holding his hand in your own as you stare straight ahead and try to keep your heart from having a fucking orgasm or some shit. But holy fuck you’re holding John Egbert’s hand, you don’t know if you can blame it for its uncontainable fluttering.

You can see John turn to look over to you out of the corner of your eye, an almost startled look on his face. You don’t acknowledge him, not yet, and wait a few moments longer, maybe he’ll say something-

His hand stirs slightly in your own, and he’s shifting to clasp his hand with yours and holy shit John Egbert is holding your hand. He smiles, and looks back up at the sky. You squeeze his hand slightly. 

He squeezes back. 


End file.
